Ray's of Night
by Damon Howe
Summary: 30 years ago, Hiccup changed the Viking world forever by befriending a Night Fury. Now, a new generation of Viking Warriors are growing up to take their senior's place. What will be in store for our heros? Co-Authored with BrokenDemoness & Blue-Streaker.
1. Prologue

**A/N:**

Disclaimer:

This story is fan-based on the book series _How To Train Your __Dragon_ by Cressida Cowell and the movie of the same name by Dreamworks Studios. I have no intention of gaining any profit from the use of their plot, characters, or ideas. Please support the official release. Furthermore, this story contains original characters created for the sole intention of supporting the HTTYD series. Each author owns their own characters, and I (and my co-authors) have no intention of profiting from their use. Permission was granted by the authors for the use of their characters in this story.

Authors include: BrokenDemoness, Blue-Streaker, and yours truly. Characters by: Ankieth, Carter547, and all the authors.

Final note…I'll lighten up after the first few chapters.

Prologue by Damon Howe.

* * *

White-capped waves coursed through the ocean, riding atop a surging tide and below freezing, gusting winds.

The ocean and sky, which was black and churning, roared their duel fury to the village of Berk, which sat on the southern precipice of their modest island. Berk, like so many Viking villages of its day, stood as the symbol of stubbornness of humankind. No, not just the symbol of stubbornness, but its epitome. No matter how hard the ocean raged against the docks and cliffs, or how hard the wind blew and rain fell, the village would go on about its daily routine. Vikings were still out and about, feeding the sheep and kids, tending to the children, sharpening their weapons and tools, and building new ships, buildings, and other various objects of need, as if it was just another ordinary day.

Of course, for Berk this was practically an ordinary day. As far North as it was, Berk had a reputation for snowing nine months out of the year…then hailing the other three. Despite the horrible weather conditions, despite the fact that this rock held no real military or resourceful significance, the people stayed. Like I said, they're stubborn. However, there was one good thing about the modest village of Berk, and that lay with the other residents.

Dragons.

Yep, dragons. For generations these dragons were the scourge of the Viking village, destroying it practically every other month, stealing their food, and causing overall havoc. Yet, roughly thirty years ago, that all changed; and it changed because of one not-so-Viking-like teenager. His name? Hiccup Haddock the Third, or as everyone else knows him, Hiccup. In one of his many "hiccups", the boy brought down the most feared dragon in all of Viking history, the Night Fury. Then, instead of killing the dragon where it lay, he set it free, and not only did he later befriend the beast, but they formed a bond. A partnership, one that nobody and nothing could ever hope to break. Together, they helped teach each other many different things. Hiccup taught the Night Fury, whom he named Toothless, how to fly again with his help. And Toothless taught Hiccup about dragons, and about girls. The rest, as they say, is history.

For many years after, Hiccup lead the village in everything dealing with dragons…how to train them, ride them, befriend them, and take care of them. It was rough, that's for sure, and it took quite a bit of time, but eventually Hiccup managed to forge a permanent alliance between the dragons and Vikings; one that ran just about as deep as the good ol' Viking stubbornness itself. About ten years ago, Hiccup succeeded his father, Stoick the Vast, as chieftain of the tribe. Stoick resigned to take seat as one of the tribes elders, and still sits there today. Hiccup and his wife Astrid, now led their growing village (of which they contributed two daughters and a son) into a new age of prosperity and wealth…if not without its own challenges. There was the growing dragon population to deal with as well as the Viking population, which meant the village had to produce more food and supplies than ever before. More people meant more buildings, which meant more room needed to be made for said buildings. Occasionally, they needed to deal with the other Viking tribes throughout the islands, as well as rogue and dangerous dragons. Through it all though, Hiccup promised to maintain the peace. With Toothless and Astrid by his side, no one in the village doubted it either.

And just as Hiccup had sought out, and earned, his little piece of fame, so too does a new generation of young Vikings, and young dragons as well. Young Vikings, filled with both ambitious desires of dragon riding, Viking raids, and fights…and the not-so-ambitious desires of the heart. Young dragons, yearning for riders of their own like so many other older dragons…or yearning to create havoc for the village and themselves. And as a new chapter in Berk's long history is written, one can't help but wonder one thing: who will be its authors?


	2. Gone Hunting, Be Back Soon

**A/N:**

Thanks Toothless-the-nightfury for our first review! Now on to the actual story!

Chapter 1 - Gone Hunting, Be Back Soon

* * *

Rain. Nothing but rain for the past week. Even the dragons, whom normally didn't care what the weather was, seemed sullen by the continuous wet weather. Clothes were no longer associated by their dryness, but rather by how wet they where compared to the others. Still, the sheep needed to be feed, the fields needed to be tended, and fish needed to be caught and roasted over a nice warm fire…which was getting harder to maintain with the lack of dry wood.

In one home, a warrior named Assur stepped out onto the top of the stairs that would bring him to the village road. Despite the bad weather, today he gleamed with pride. For today, his son would become a man of the village. Now, in years past, this was done by earning the right to kill a dragon; but since Stoick the Vast abolished that, a new practice had been put in place instead for a man to earn his manhood (or a woman her womanhood).

They call it, "The Hunt." In a sense, that's exactly what it is. When they are deemed ready, a boy or girl is sent out into the vast forest North of the village, and told they could not come back or have any contact with the village for three days. In those three days, they were told they had to kill the best creature they could find (not necessarily the biggest and most ferocious) and bring it back to the village. The key thing was, though, that no matter if they took all three days to kill what they wanted to, or one hour; they had to stay out in the forest all three days. It was then said that whatever they killed to bring back would say something about what kind of a man or woman that person was, and often wound up correlating to their title. For instance, Assur himself earned the title "Assur the Silent"; not for being quiet (because he certainly wasn't, especially after several pitchers of mead) but because of his kill, which was a deer.

Today was the day Assur's son would be participating, along with several others. His son, nineteen, was a little older than the other participants, but that small fact wasn't because he was any sort of disappointment to his tribe or his parents. Like many of the other calculating warriors of his tribe…correction, like some of the few calculating warriors of his tribe, instead of taking on "The Hunt" as soon as he was deemed ready, he waited to train and hone his skills for a few more years. Now, he stood grown, skilled, and mentally ready.

"Ivar! Get your lazy butt down here! If you don't move out of bed RIGHT THIS MINUTE, you're going to be late for The Hunt!"

…okay, so he wasn't standing.

* * *

"Ugh…" My dad was at it again…always with the yelling and excitement well before it was necessary.

"IVAR!" I heard again, louder this time, as my dad apparently wasn't going to let me sleep in.

Resigning that there was no way I was going to be able to get in a few more minutes, I pushed back the wool sheets and strode my way across my bedroom to the clothing line, where all my clothes hang drying. I found the driest shirt and pants, and began to put them on slowly. Since they had been sitting in front of the fire the whole time, they were all nice and toasty…at least until I went outside and froze again that is. I finished putting on the rest of my gear after taking as much time as possible, savoring the heat from each new layer. My leather vest came over my wool shirt, and a fur coat on top of that would certainly keep me warm despite the near-freezing temperatures. I slipped my feet into my hard leather boots, and finally added my leather gloves and satchel to complete my outfit. Oh, and let's not forget…the traditional Viking helmet. The pride of every Viking, mine was made from the metal left over from numerous broken shields and various metal parts that they could find no other use for…glamorous, isn't it?

Nevertheless, I took a step back and examined myself all over. It was hard to tell how good (or not) I looked, but hey, it'd have to do. The dishes were never clean enough to see your reflection in anyways.

"Ivar! You better get down here soon, your father's going nuts waiting for you!"

Mother. She had a good heart, and although she herself never was a warrior, she could wield any sort of kitchenware she had as good as any warrior could. Does that fact scare me? Yes, most days she does. Usually when she chides me it's the first warning. She usually mentions dad, to cover up for her own annoyance. Next, she makes her own annoyance well known with a small, but noticeable threat. And if I'm still lagging behind, her final means of getting my attention usually involves throwing things at my head.

Last time it was the axe over the mantle. Charming family, as always.

"Coming mother!" I said as I made my way down the stairs to the smell of freshly cooked mutton. Sitting down in front of the main room's long table mom set down a bowl of, well, _something_ in front of me. Well, this was Berk. We were Vikings. _Well, it looks like any other meal…but mom usually makes things…"special" whenever there's something going on. Last time I ate one of her "special" meals, I couldn't leave the outhouse for more than an hour at a time for a week. Perhaps I should skip? After all, it's only about an hour till 'The Hunt', and that'll take about an hour before it starts, so…what, three, four hours to-_

I didn't have time to finish my train of thought before I felt my jaw forced opened and a mouthful of whatever-it-was shoved into my mouth. I gagged and sputtered, but couldn't help but swallow almost all of it.

"There, now finish the rest of it." My mom said, before turning back to the fire, where something else, _a pig maybe?_, was cooking on a slow roast.

I took a second look at the slop in front of me…I knew mom meant well, but she certainly couldn't cook to save a life. _At least not mine anyways._ Course, if I didn't eat it mom would kill me anyways. So, begrudgingly, I took another bite. Slowly, painfully, and miraculously only puking under one of the table's loose floorboards once I finished my meal.

As soon as the bowl clattered, mom came over to inspect it. "Hmmm…." She said, eyeing me as if she knew I had left half of her precious meal to the Terrible Terrors that lived below us. "Alright, get going you'll be late."

I never heard the last part of the sentence; I had made a bolt for the door as soon as she said "Alright."

Stepping out into the cold wind and rain, I quickly took in my familiar surroundings. The village had grown quite a bit in the last thirty years, or so I'd been told. With the dragons now defending the village instead of attacking it, buildings had a tendency to stand a little longer. And with those longer-lasting buildings came more families ready to inhabit them. And slowly but surely the buildings got closer together until only a well-trodden dirt path was left between one house and the house across from it. It's amazing, really, how much has been built up given the chance to.

I looked around in the rain for signs of my dad, before realizing that he probably had gotten impatient and walked off to the gathering place for all participants in "The Hunt". Resigning the comfort of home, I stepped out onto the road, and made my way up to the staging area, previously known as the "Dragon Arena"; where Vikings were once trained to kill dragons. Since then, it has remained a gathering place for all important events in the Viking way of life, as well as a shelter for any dragon that wished to have a place to live.

The climb up to the arena is a rough one, but I made it up to the arena just in time for the start of the ceremony. I entered the arena, where at least thirty to forty of the village's youth had gathered. I knew most of them, some more than others; there was Fera, Alfren, and Migliacci, all of them a few years younger than me. I didn't really know anything about them, I just knew their faces. I always had been kind of a loner.

As the crowd grew larger around the ring and a few more straggling teens walked into the arena, I couldn't help but look around for people I knew. I saw the blacksmith, Higgard, standing towards the front of the crowd slightly to the right of where the tribe leaders would soon appear. I knew him fairly well, he always helped me with weapon-making and gave me useful tips on how to train. He was always a bit cranky though…so usually I had to bring him a gift if I didn't want a hot iron thrown at me when I knocked on the door. Turning around I could see my mom squeeze her way to the front, trying to get a better view. However, no matter how much I looked for my dad, I couldn't find his face amongst the crowds. _Where is he? I know he's watching but where?_

Before I could take a third look around the stadium, a loud and powerful roar filled the arena, silencing all within a few short moments and bringing everyone's attention to the chieftain, his wife and dragons, whom had just arrived.

Toothless sat down, seeming quite smug with himself, and turned to Hiccup for further instructions, if any. Hiccup merely gave him a pat on the head, before turning to address the crowd.

"Well, you all know how bad I am at giving speeches…so I guess let's just get this thing started." Hiccup said nervously, earning a few laughs from the Vikings around the arena. Now, I didn't know Hiccup personally…I always felt he was weak, or at least weaker, compared to the other Vikings. Don't get me wrong, he may be a good deal skinnier than most Vikings but he's still very muscular; it's just something about him…I can't really say what. But I can attest that he is a whole different beast when he is on that dragon's back. On the ground he seems harmless, but in the air he's the best of us there is. I always found these different personalities perplexing myself.

Without further ado, Astrid handed Hiccup a decently sized scroll, of which it appeared Hiccup had been looking everywhere for. I watched as they exchanged a few words…I couldn't hear because they were too far…before Astrid gave him a strong punch on the arm. Hiccup winced, but laughed all the same before turning his attention to the scroll itself. Never a dull moment with Viking couples, that's for sure.

Hiccup cleared his throat before beginning a well-rehearsed reading; one he'd heard before while watching over other "Hunts".

"Boys and girls, this is the moment you've all been training so very hard for. The moment, where you will choose where your destiny lies. Where you choose, to become one of us!" Hiccup professed loudly to the crowd, earning cheers from adults and youth alike before being silenced again by Toothless. "Now is the time where you make your choice, and that choice begins with your weapon." With that, several Vikings brought out racks upon racks of weapons of every size and shape. "Your weapon, much like a family member, becomes a part of you, defines your very nature. While I hope you don't hug it, wash it, feed it and the like, you do have to look out for it. You do have to take care of it. And you do have to practice, practice, practice with it. Families aren't born cooperating with each other, and neither are good warriors immediately good with their weapon of choice. So choose wisely."

With that, the chaos began. There was no set way of getting a weapon, and since there was only a limited number of each weapon, it usually wound up that a brawl would break over some weapon between several teens. The smart ones would wait for the fights to break out, then sneak by and take their pick quickly and quietly. Unfortunately, I didn't have that luxury. I was after one of the four bow-and-arrows, which I was best at; but with so many other competitors here, I couldn't afford to let them possibly slip by. I ran for the nearest of the two stands, shoving my way past Fera as I made my way towards the stand. I was one of the first to get there, but by the time I was there it was too late. Both of the bows were gone already. I turned to make a run for the other stand, but met the crowd of teens and got nowhere. I pushed and shoved, but I had no idea whether I was making progress or not. At some point, I got cheap-shotted in the back. By the time I turned around, I realized I was one of the few left to pick over the last choices. The bows were all gone.

_Son of a dragon-munching-bark-eating-land-loving-witch! Damn it all, now what the hell am I supposed to do? How in the world am I supposed to hunt with a warhammer?_ I swore repeatedly, before turning to my final options.

_Hammer, no…axe, well maybe, but I really suck at throwing them…spear? too lengthy, too hard to throw…what else is there?_

It was then that I spotted a Seax, hanging in the bottom corner of the weapons rack. Without hesitation I grabbed it, and found that it not only had a belt to go with it, but it was actually two Seaxes, one worn on either side of the hip. I fitted the belt, and it seemed a little small for me…but it'd have to do.

I looked around at the other teens, to see what they had picked up. Fera and Alfren and both picked up swords, though Fera had a sword and shield combo while Alfren had just a two-handed sword. I wasn't too impressed…honestly, a sword has little use for hunting. A spear might be better than that. But, by the way those two were testing them out they seemed satisfied, if only slightly. I looked around more, and discovered that Migliacci had managed to acquire a decently sized battleaxe. My guess was he was skilled with it, otherwise the weapon was pretty much useless.

The teens that had grabbed _my_ bows and arrows had all gathered in a group and were chatting aimlessly. I was half willing to bet they had planned well ahead of time, but that couldn't be helped now.

Now that we all had our weapons ready and inspected, Hiccup stood to address us once again.

"Now that you have chosen your weapons, your task is this: you must go into the Great Forest and Mountains on the Northern side of the island, and kill a creature. But this can't be just any ordinary creature; it very must be the creature that speaks to your heart; the creature that defines your very existence. From this creature you will take their life, their attributes, and incorporate them into your own." Hiccup said, once again reading straight from the scroll. Many of the other teens were shaking, including me. Then again, I was probably the only one excited.

"However," Hiccup's voice boomed, as he scanned the teens seriously. "You must not only kill this creature, but it must be your only kill during your three days of survival. You cannot quit. You cannot give up. And you cannot cheat. _Nothing_ on this island happens without my knowledge." Hiccup warned us all. His stare pierced the heart of the kid next to me…poor baby, by the way his eyes had gotten as wide as dinner plates and grip had tightened to near breaking-strength on his axe handle.

After a final scan, and with dead silence from everyone in the arena, Hiccup said the words that I knew would start the beginning of perhaps the greatest adventure of my young life….if I survived that is.

"Go." Okay, so it wasn't 'words', but who's counting?

Every last one of us rushed for the exit. I saw Alfren head left from the arena, which would lead him either to the mountains or the coast. The majority, including me, headed right, which would lead to the eastern side of the village, where we could head North and enter the largest section of forest. I lost focus as I slowed my through the town, and started to consider what I wanted to hunt for.

I could go for a deer like my dad. Assur took down one of those with a bow and arrow, so if I did it I'd be practically famous. I'd also have plenty of meat to survive on, and I could use its hide for part of a shelter. Then again, it'd really be cool if I managed to find something exotic, like a puffin or a mink. I certainly didn't want to go with something overly simple and almost cowardly, like a fish, or a lizard. At least, unless I hadn't killed anything else and I was down to the wire on time. But none of these were a part of my true hopeful kill…a fully grown dragon.

It's been my ambition since my brother died. He, like so many others before us, was a true Viking. He was just five years older than me, but I always looked up to him like he was an uncle. He always knew how to hold a weapon better, how to hunt quieter and kill quicker. He was considered a prodigy by many of his friends and even by some of the senior Vikings. When he took on "The Hunt", he managed to bag an Arctic Fox, considered a tricky and elusive animal by nature. But brother was trickier, and lured the fox with his own food trap to its doom, with one fell swoop of his axe after jumping from a tree. He was everything to me and my family.

And then, two years ago, our village suddenly came under attack in broad daylight. Two dragons, both Nightmares, flew out of the sun and descended upon our village without a sound. We only realized it was an attack when the first house went up in flames. Fearing the worst, the town quickly went to arms, and within a few moments the entire village was ready to fight…but the dragons had left. They had each fired just three shots apiece, and only burned down one home. A few Vikings were hurt badly when two of the shots landed in the crowded market, and one house was burned to the ground within a minute of being hit.

The house, in question, was mine. And my brother was inside when it went up. I don't know why he was there at that time…I was out playing in the woods when I saw the smoke and rushed back. I saw our house, still fully engulfed and collapsing. My mother had been in the market, my dad attending sheep. It was only until after the fire had burned the house to the ground and we sorted through the rubble did we find that my brother hadn't made it out. From what we guessed, he never made it out of his room. It wasn't that my brother had died that really got to me. It took some time, that's for sure…but still. The worst part was knowing that he didn't die in some great battle. He didn't die facing the elements on the high seas, or in the rough mountain weather. No, he died in his room, probably in his bed, from a cowardly, unprovoked and simply _spineless_ attack by a dragon. Why, when Berk is the alleged _haven_ for dragons in the Viking kingdom, did they attack us? It's not like there weren't any dragons visible, because on a nice sunny day like it was, every single dragon is usually out and about. It was only then that I realized the true, cold nature of dragons…and how they were all better off dead.

Before I knew it, I was alone at the forest edge. With one last look towards Berk, I set off through the forest, moving as swiftly as possible without making a noise, just like my brother taught me. And it would be thanks to my brother, that I would earn my kill on "The Hunt", and become the Viking he was.

And my kill was certainly going to be a dragon.

* * *

Rain. It had been doing that a lot lately. But these seasonal storms churned the seas, bringing the fish closer to the surface, making them easy prey for me. I looked around from my nest's viewpoint. Cliffs on either side of my ravine prevented anything from getting down into it, without going either all the way up to the head of the ravine where it climbed up the mountain and became just a small little stream running through a crack in the rock, or all the way down to the ocean where the same stream flowed out onto a wide beach. Anywhere in between were cliffs, too high for anyone or anything to climb or descend. And that was fine with me.

I had found this place at least three years ago, and have been content with it ever since. I've had to fight off a few of the other nearby residents, like the occasional Nightmare and a few Nadders who loved perching themselves on the cliff edges to ambush their prey. Now though, they knew to leave this area well enough alone. I jumped down from my nest (a burned-out crater on the cliffside) and made my way over to one of my many food stores in the area. I dug up the pit, and found my fish stores to be in exceptionally good condition. I whole-heartedly ate my fill, which regrettably emptied the stash. This had been the case for the past few weeks. Only recently had the food been good pickings, and I've been living off of my well hidden food stashes for months before then. Now, I was trying to replenish my stocks, as most were empty.

However, despite the good pickings, fishing this time of year in the rough seas and high winds is rough work, and really takes a lot of energy to do. I needed some good, quality food; food that I could get with relative ease, compared to fishing. And the only chance for that was to raid the local village. As dusk approached, I got ready. I checked myself over, tested and stretched all my muscles, and made my way to a clear, straighter part of the ravine.

I unfolded my wings, and with a few strong flaps I was soaring into the growing night sky. The wind flew past my scales, the rain becoming like daggers and piercing my eyes thousands of times over. But I didn't care, I was in my element. I was at home. And as the darkness grew and as I approached the unsuspecting village, my heart raced for the thrill of the hunt; a hunt that the village would never know about, as I picked off one of their own right under their noses. I am the silent, the swift, the hunter.

I am a Night Fury. And I live for the kill.


	3. Loving and Caring Vikings

**A/N: **Thanks again Toothless-the-Night-Fury for the review!

**Chapter Two: Loving and Caring Vikings**

"Fera, get out of bed." Guni grumbled, rubbing the back off his head, as he entered his daughters small bedroom. The teen girl groaned and turned away snuggling under the covers even more. Losing all patience with her, Guni yelled, "Fera... Get. Out. Of. Bed. NOW!" yanking her covers off for good measure. Fera shot up, glaring right back into her father's scowling face.

"DAD! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" She screamed, though she just woke up, she knew it was her father and nothing else ticked her off more than her father waking her up. She shivered and yanked the covers back, growling at him, her stormy blue eyes betraying her emotions. "I'M TIRED! I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT TRAINING WITH YOU! NOW LEAVE!"

Guni winced at the sudden change in tone, but nevertheless grabbed her by the hair and dragged her out of her room. Fera, who gave up the moment her dad started dragging, let out a deep sigh and crossed her arms. At some point her dad would have to let go anyways.

"What now?" She asked curtly; reminding her _dear_ father that she was sassy and curt when awoken…well, more-so than usual anyways. Her father never replied; he just glanced at her briefly before turning back to what he was doing: dragging her to the family room, regardless of her attire. Upon entering the room, it was made clear that Fera was not the "early bird" as her mother, Lynx and two other siblings, Frick and Nick, were already seated and eating breakfast.

* * *

Fera's POV:

I was sleeping soundly, of course until my dad decided he would wake me up from my two-hour sleep. Even though I yelled at him, he just dragged me away from my sweet privacy and warm fur blankets. _Damn jerk, what does he want now? Oh yeah, the 'Hunt'..Ugh, why today? _I wondered, sighing again. After dad got me (or should I say _us_) to the family room, my mom who smiled sweetly at me motioned me to the table. After I sat down, mom handed me my breakfast while my brothers, Frick and Nick, had their second serving. Nick, being the annoying brother he was, grinned at me for seemingly no reason. To add to the frustration, Frick caught his brother's look and grinned as well. It wasn't long before the two were exchanging what seemed to be a very engaging but silent conversation…seeing as they were always gesturing to me and snickering.

"Okay, either you tell me what's up or I'll kick your a-"

"Fera! Watch your language!" Mom snapped, glaring at me, "You have two little brothers who look up to you!"

"No. I have two _annoying pests,_ that'll become my next target practice!" I snapped back, shooting the two a death glare before I turned to my food with a ravenous hunger. I didn't look up or pay attention to anything that was said until after finishing my breakfast. I stood up immediately after finishing breakfast to go get a proper set of clothes on for the weather, and instantly regretted it. Mom cooked well enough, but it sits delicately in one's stomach…move too fast and it comes back it comes back to haunt you. I don't know what she puts in it, but I'm pretty sure she does it to make sure I don't run off as soon as possible. Too bad it works.

Nick giggled at my obvious discomfort. I knew it was only a matter of time before they started their REAL annoying habit…finishing a sentence together. I swear they might as well be a hideous zippleback; they certainly had the looks to match the description. The only thing that made them worse was they never fought with each other. Ever.

"Well sissy," began Nick. _Oh here we go._

"Mom and dad said," Frick continued, his grin growing even bigger. I swear he must've seen me burst a vein.

"You'll be gone for three days and…"

"That means three days without you!"

"We'll miss you!" They cried in unison. I winced, yeah right. After I die, they'll miss me…nah, probably not.

"Oh don't lie you little pest's." I seethed, turning to get up now that my stomach had settled again.

"Fera!" My mom yelled after me. _Should've known it wouldn't end there._

"Dad!" I cried as a last resort. I never got along with him, but every once and a while he'd take my side…Mom? Never.

'Lynx…"

"Stop taking her side, Guni!"

"UGH!" I cried, throwing my hands up, "Is it me or is it that my family is completely dysfunctional? And I'm not talking in the "normal" dysfunctional way; at least _those_ families take the oldest siblings' side!" Well that silenced my parents, for now at least.

I gave one last glare before turning to go to my room, using their stunned disposition to make my 'escape'. I grabbed the clothes I left out yesterday and dressed in them: a fur jacket, fur boots, a plain shirt and a pair of comfy pants. I quickly brushed my black hair and put it in a complicated braid, one that would last the three days in whatever hellhole I found myself in. Finally finding everything in check, I took off running out of the place I call _home._

After several minutes of running, I finally found myself at the arena where teens where gathering, for "The Hunt". I waited and looked around, making sure I saw every teen here; could be useful later to know the "who's who" before going off to the wilderness for three days. If I ran into one of them, they could be of some use to me I'm sure. Looking around, I realized that there were some teens I didn't know, well _most_ I didn't know. While this was far from great, I at least saw a few familiar faces; hopefully I run into one of them while I'm out there, it'll make life easier. I suddenly realized that the Chief was speaking, but I still only listened half-heartedly at best…I already knew what he was talking about because of my dad, he told me everything. Hearing nothing unusual or different, I suddenly remembered what was going to happen next.

That's when…well, it was like war, that's all I will say. Everyone rushes to go get a weapon off of one of two racks, which held weapons of all sorts and sizes. I ran, being shoved once, I cursed loudly when I stumbled and almost fell. Reaching out at random towards the rack, I managed to grab a sword. I took a moment to quickly browse the other selections, but this weapon seemed more…me. Not too heavy or light, easy to handle, and best of all versatile since it was one-handed. I grabbed a shield, making sure it wasn't a girlie one…the day I went out to battle with flowers on my shield would be the day someone from my own tribe bit it.

After equipping my sword's sheath to my side and shield to my back, I looked around to observe the other's choices for a brief moment. Most of the teens seemed pleased with their choice of weapon, well except one guy, who looked like he was having a hard time deciding from what was left. I turned away, slightly feeling sorry for the boy. Besides, I needed to focus on my task; killing a creature of some sort that would best represent me.

I wasn't too sure about what I wanted to kill, but I had to make sure it was good; Dad had already threatened me about sleeping outside. I didn't really care, I knew he probably wouldn't make me. Regardless of what I managed to kill, I sure hoped that once I was out there I saw _her._

__

_

* * *

_

Midnight's POV:

I sighed. It happened at least once around this time of year…something the humans called the "Hunt" or something. And it never failed that every year some stupid Viking would try to bag one of us. _Stupid humans…I mean, what is even the point of it? Hunting for a namesake? What the heck is that? It sounds so worthless!_ I shook my head thoroughly…I did _not_ need to be talking to myself at a time like this. Looking around, I took in my surroundings one last time -the gentle creek, the swaying conifers, and the faint scent of salt that betrayed the nearby ocean- before I knew I'd be forced to move by the little savages…I wasn't exactly far from the village, and I could hear their cheering and chanting quite well from here.

Shaking my head again as I stood, I slowly stretched my wings out before flapping them softly and slowly, testing them to make sure I didn't make my wing fall asleep again. Finally ready to fly to my cave, I couldn't help by think how much I had fought for it…more times than I could count, that's for sure. _Why are female dragons so territorial when it came to their eggs?...course, then again I've never had any of my own so…but it's not like any of them would notice me, and it's not like I'm an actual threat to them, so why would they care?_

Pausing to consider this, I realized something…why was I even thinking about this? It's not like I care about it, I never do anyways…so why waste time on pointless thoughts?

With one powerful flap of my wings, I was off. I flew up and over the treeline before quickly reaching the ocean; I turned North and headed straight for my cave, which was on a small cliff overlooking a rock-laden beach. I sniffed the air, giving a small prayer that no one had invaded my home; it happened roughly once a month, and with the Vikings to be out on the hunt soon enough, I didn't want to be engaged in any sort of confrontation out in the open.

Finding the cave empty of any sort of life except for my own scent, I quickly entered without making a sound and headed towards the back and out of sight.

At the back of the cave I leaned against the cave wall; I knew it would only be a matter of time before a Viking or two saw this place and would come to check it out…but that didn't stop me from hoping they'd miss it entirely.


	4. Wanderings and Discoveries

**A/N: **Thanks again Toothless the Night Fury for the review! PLEASE read and review people, let us know how we're doing!

Further note, the previous chapter was written by BrokenDemoness, and edited by Damon Howe.

Chapter 3 is written by Blue-Streaker, and edited by Damon Howe.

**Chapter 3 – Wanderings and Discoveries**

Alfren's POV

Alfren walked slowly through the cold, wet grass as his eyes scanned around the forest searching for the animal…well, _any_ animal for the "hunt". He had set his ambitions high, hoping to find a dragon, so then he could prove to all those other Vikings that teased him that he was no wimp. He was as strong as any of the other Vikings his age…he had just never caught anything worth showing off. The biggest thing he ever killed was a bird that got too close to the ground, and he happened to be throwing a rock as it collided with the bird at the exact moment. But now was his chance to prove that he could catch more than just a bird that had a death wish.

His dad probably forgot all about the "Hunt", or that Alfren had finally reached the age where he could participate. Alfren had come to expect that he wouldn't notice since he never paid any attention to what his son was doing; not after his wife died anyways. Since that dark part of his childhood, Alfren has been able to do whatever he wanted to without needing to ask for permission of any kind. He was almost always completely alone, except when his dad showed up every few days or so, and even then he just walked in and went to the small bedroom in the back of the hut to sleep.

He felt kind of left out until now; all of the other teens had been spending tons of time over the last few weeks and months training their sons and daughters for this event, for the chance to prove themselves to their tribe. Alfren, meanwhile, had to figure out his own way to train; mainly through observing other teens and pure trial and error. One teen in particular, a girl named Fera (he only knew her name because her dad cursed her name whenever she screwed up badly) was particularly helpful to his training, as he spent many hours watching her intense training regimen. He wanted to join the other teens and their parents so much, but he was kind of nervous about what would happen, since him and his father were practically village outcasts. That wasn't the only thing that made him nervous though. He had heard the stories of what would happen in the "Hunt" time and time again, usually from the village elder Stoick: _"When they are deemed ready, a boy or girl is sent out into the vast forest North of the village, and told they could not return to the village for three days. In those three days, they were told they had to kill the best creature they could find and bring it back to the village. Yet, they had to stay out in the forest all three days. It was then said that whatever they killed to bring back would say something about what kind of a man or woman that person was, and this would become their title."_ That part seemed fun, exciting and downright awesome; coming back into Berk, a fresh dragon kill hauled behind him, all of the villagers coming out to greet and congratulate him on his conquest. He wanted to come back so badly, just as he did every night in his dreams. He wanted those bragging rights, he wanted a title like "Hiccup the Dragon Rider" or "Stoick the Vast" or "Astrid the BraveHeart". Deep down though, Alfren was scared about was catching and killing dragon…not only was that sort of thing life threatening, but what if he walked back into camp scorched to a crisp with nothing to show? He'd be the laughing stock of the village for the rest of his life.

Alfren's thoughts shifted as he shivered while stepping through the frost on the blades of grass that brushed against his sandals and melted onto his feet. It made each step harder until it had melted away. _This is getting ridiculous_, he thought. He had already been on the hunt for one full day, and the second was almost up as well. _I'm starting to think I'll never find a dragon, or any animal for that matter._ _I was so sure that I would find one today. _The fact that Alfren hadn't, and most likely wasn't going to, was much harder to accept as the truth than he thought. "I'm not going to find any dragons today." Alfren muttered to himself, looking to the sky's dwindling light; it would be completely dark in a few hours. Alfren closed his eyes and pictured a vision of coming back with no dragon or animal, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. At least most of the others he was sure had caught an escaped sheep or even an elk by this point, but he didn't even have a mouse to turn in.

_Maybe I should just find a bed and worry more about this tomorrow, _he thought despairingly. He looked over to some rough looking thorn bushes that seemed to surround him, so he couldn't sleep here. He had to keep searching. But as the day grew later, it grew colder too, to where he was almost frozen in his spot trying to find an area to sleep in. Eventually he came across an old, abandoned cave that wasn't very big and looked like it was once home to a much smaller creature possibly a fox; but with no other options, it would have to do until the morning. Quickly searching nearby for some brush he could use as insulation, he wove a web of branches and leaves around the cave walls, providing him with enough insulation to keep him warm and enough to survive the night inside. It wasn't toasty, but then again he wasn't going to freeze to death either.

Alfren dropped his things and his sword in the corner of the small cave and laid down on the hard ground, using his bag as a pillow. Slowly but surely as he felt more and more secure and comfortable with his temporary home, his awareness and vision slowly blacked out until he was fast asleep.

…sssSSSHHHAAAaaa…

Alfren was awake before he could even register what was going on and why he was even awake in the first place. It took several seconds to realize that his pounding heart and ringing ears were telling him why he was up at this hour of the night.

He had heard a scream, and it sounded not too far away. The noise sounded familiar, but he couldn't quiet put his finger on it. The moaning mixed with pure terror was enough to scare anything away in the nearby area. The noise of bloody murder continued until Alfren realized it was an animal in pain, and not just any animal, either. "That has to be the sound of a dragon!" Alfren realized, scrambling himself out of his tightly woven nest. The shriek came again but this time it was much softer and sounded much more strained. _That screech sounded like it was in a lot of pain, and it keeps getting harder to hear. Is something wrong? I don't want to go anything near that, what if it gets ticked off and attacks me?_ Alfren waited, and at that moment noticed that the normal sounds of the forest, the chitterling of various forest animals and insects, had returned. He couldn't hear anything that remotely sounded like the screeching he heard. After a few more minutes of internal debate, Alfren decided to go and check it out. He clutched his sword in his hands tightly as if he let go he would fall in to nothingness and be lost forever.

He crept on as slowly as he could in the direction he thought he heard the scream come from, wondering what he would find behind every single tree and in the undergrowth. After some time searching, so much so that the twilight had set in, Alfren came across an area that was too thick with vines and brush to simply walk through. After seeing no way around it, Alfren took aim with his sword and brought it down on the undergrowth in front of him, and continued slashing till he had cut a hole in the brush large enough for him to fit through.

Seeing nothing in the darkness beyond, Alfren stepped carefully through, took four steps, and fell. He slid down a slick and narrow culvert before hitting the bottom hard, or at least what he hoped was the bottom. Rubbing his backside in pain, Alfren heard what sounded like a low, pained purr coming from the darkness in front of him. Slowly getting to his knees, Alfren took a few unsure steps forward. He stepped into what looked like a small narrow canyon, visible only by the pale glow of twilight. A single beam of sunlight pierced the canyon's high walls, revealing before his eyes a dark black dragon with long black claws lying just a few feet in front of him.

* * *

Jango's POV

Jango flew fast through the night air, his black wings flapping as silently as the quietest owl. He didn't usually fly this late at night, but he felt like getting a bit of exercise after eating all that fish. He knew most other dragons didn't get as much fish as he did, because he had one of the best parts of the river for his home, and that's was why he defended it so fiercely.

Lately there had been some dragons snooping around the edge of his territory, so now he had to defend it even more than normal. He had let his claws on his hind legs grow long and sharp to shred any intruder by slashing them in the side. For right now though, he was letting his guard down by going away to get some exercise. After all, even he knew that the constant stress of defending one's territory would only work to destroy him. Even so, he had to hurry and burn as much fat as he could before returning to his home, so he would be ready the next time he had to defend his home.

He had already passed long fields of nothing but grass, and now he was nearing the canyons, a place where few Vikings and dragons ever went. The air currents, creatures, and sheer hostility of the environment in this series of steep narrow ravines made it preferable to avoid at all costs, but it was the shortest way to get back to his den. There were two different ways he could take the canyon; he could either fly above it, where he'd have to deal with the sporadic wind currents that could throw him right into the canyon itself if he wasn't careful and left him vulnerable to whatever may want to take a shot at him, _or_ he could fly right through it, which was the fastest route, but even more dangerous because the air currents in the canyon were far worse than they were above it. After a moment of consideration, he decided to take the faster route. Better to be quick than safe was his policy after all. He swooped down swiftly into the widest part of the canyon he could find, grinding his teeth as his wings scraped the sides of the ravine.

After a few minutes of weaving through the canyon, Jango could smell the familiar scent of the forest on the edge of his turf approaching, and it was getting stronger with each passing moment. Realizing that he was almost out, Jango increased his speed. As soon as he got back to his territory, he could take a breather and perhaps even a few hours sleep. The last thing he expected, though, that when he was no more than one hundred feet from the exit of the canyon, his left wing scrapped an unexpectedly narrow section of the rock wall. The collision veered him face-first into the cliff wall, knocking him senseless and off balance. Jango tumbled against the rocks on either side of the canyon before crashing to its bottom. Jango shook himself, before he attempted to get up and continue.

He only managed to lift himself a couple feet before a surge of pain from his left wing brought him down again. Looking to find the source of the pain, he found that half of his wing had managed to lodge itself in a crack that seemed to run the length of this part of the canyon. He lunged forward to free himself from the painful blockage, but instead of freeing him, it cut him and lodged his wing in even more. Trying to think of something fast, Jango tugged his wing hard from the canyon wall, but it didn't budge. No matter how much he tugged, pulled, yanked, pushed, his wing wouldn't move. He even blasted the walls with a few well-placed fire balls, but nothing changed. Full panic finally setting in, Jango let loose a screech of rage, pain, and fear.

No matter how loud he screeched - for help, for recognition, for what he didn't know - he was quite sure he was stuck at the bottom of this godforsaken canyon forever. He kept on screaming and screaming, but at last he just gave up and hung there with no hope left. As the hours went by and the night got colder, Jango slowly began to freeze. After all, the bottom of a canyon was far colder at night than any open field. He had been stuck in the canyon so long that the sun was coming up. Tired and freezing, Jango let out one last cry - one that barely left his throat - for help before passing out.

* * *

Alfren's POV

"H-hey, are you okay," Alfren said, laying down his weapon as he looked out at the injured dragon. He was not moving, and didn't react at all to Alfren's call; he started to wonder if the dragon was dead or not. "Hey, can you move?" Alfren said again. "Do you need help?" The dragon was still unresponsive. "Hey, wait," Alfren thought out loud. "If I can take this dead dragon back to camp and tell everyone that I killed it, I would pass the "Hunt" and not even have to kill anything." Looking around, Alfren noticed a crack in the wall to his right, one that he could use to climb up onto the dragon's back. Carefully, he inched his way up the cliff wall and along the crack, moving closer and closer to the still motionless dragon.

When he was right over top of the dragon, Alfren's foot slipped and knocked a rock onto the dragon's head, to which it responded with a dull roar of annoyance and opening his eyes.

"Ahh, he's alive!" Alfren cried out in surprise. He tried to shimmy his way back across the cliff, but his panic made him careless and he slipped and fell right on top of the dragon; both the dragon and Alfren cried out, him in surprise, the dragon in pain. Rolling off as fast as he could, Alfren found himself on his knees face to face with the dragon staring him down, eyes glistening in the sun's rays. "P-p-please don't eat me dragon," Alfren begged. But Jango didn't let out a single sound; the Viking hadn't realized it, but the dragon was straining just to keep his eyes open.

After a while Alfren caught on; that the dragon wasn't going to eat him. Getting up, Alfren took a good look at the dragon and his surroundings. It was then that he noticed the dragon's left wing was bent at an odd angle. Alfren moved closer to it, and realized that only half of his wing was showing and that the other half was wedged in the very crack he had tried to use to climb onto the dragon before. "Ah, you're stuck aren't you," Alfren said, gently petting the dragon's lodged wing. "Hang on, I may have something that'll help." Alfren backed away before turning to his pack, which had fallen off his back when he rolled off the dragon. After fumbling through it for a bit, he grabbed a spare rope he had taken with him. He had intended on bringing it so that he could drag his kill – which he hoped was a dragon – back to camp.

Now, he'd be using it to save a dragon...probably the one he hoped to be dragging. He took out the rope and moved around to the back of the dragon, careful not to step on the dragon's other wing. Climbing over the dragon's tail, Alfren moved over to the trapped wing. After looking for a few minutes to find the best approach, he tied the rope around the dragon's wing tip. "Okay, I'm almost ready." Alfren said, letting out the slack and retreating to a boulder nearby to brace himself. "Okay, this is going to hurt a bit. Just hold on." Alfren said, as he started pulling on the wing. The dragon roared in pain, as Alfren pulled as hard as he could on his wing. But no matter how hard he pulled it didn't budge. "Could you give me a hand here?" Alfren asked sarcastically, panting as he shed his heavy coat. The dragon moaned, but gave no indication it would be helping. Alfren sighed, before starting to tug again. This time the dragon pushed back as well with all its might. Just when he was about to give up on the idea of pulling the dragon out, the wing slipped. Not much, but enough to show progress.

Alfren smiled. This could actually work.

After another hour or so, with the sun now starting to rise higher into the sky, the dragon's wing was almost out, with only the shoulder still stuck. Alfren gave one last tug on the rope, and at last the stuck wing was released, sending him falling down on his back and freeing the dragon to launch himself into the air. Alfren, still holding onto the rope, was dragged unexpectedly behind him, leaving everything besides his rope behind him. The dragon soared as high as he could, enjoying the freedom he thought he'd never have again before gliding back down, his energy completely drained. He landed in a grassy field in his territory, immediately stretching out and relaxing. It was then that he noticed that the Viking boy that had saved him was still clinging desperately to the rope that was tied to his wing tip, as if letting go would mean a death sentence. Alfren was frozen in fear, and couldn't even move to gain distance between him and the dragon as it turned to face him. The dragon growled, just inches from Alfren's face. The dragon did nothing, just starred at his rescuer hoping he would run away, hoping he'd be fearful enough still to run from him. Alfren couldn't run though; his legs had turned to jelly the minute the dragon took off and his mind was fried the second he realized he was, for lack of better words, flying. Slowly extending his arm, Alfren laid a hand on the dragon and petted him on the snout. The dragon was annoyed to be pet by a human, but he didn't really have a choice, he saved his life.

Alfren gained some confidence from this unsaid permission granted by the dragon, and soon was petting him all over his head and neck. The dragon, though, didn't have all day to rest and relax. As soon as he had gained enough energy, he leapt up in to the sky without warning and flew away, rope detached by Alfren before he left. He was finally free from his almost death, and he could get back to patrolling his territory. Alfren stared on as the dragon flew away until he was out of sight.

Only then did he remember; the "Hunt". _Shoot, _he thought, _now I have nothing to bring back, and my time's almost up._ Picking up the rope he untied, his last remaining item that didn't get left back in the canyon, Alfren ran back toward the forest, hoping to catch something with a trap or something before his time ran out.

And unbeknownst to him, a single dragon scale remained lodged in his fur vest.


	5. Where Art Thou, Hiccup?

**A/N: **Thanks Toothless again for the review! Wish others would too...

This chapter's a filler...so it's not my best work...but you'll see how it plays in.

**Chapter 4 - Where Art Thou, Hiccup?**

Astrid's POV

The Village of Berk was bustling for once this spring. A rare break in the weather allowed for all the tensions of being cooped up over the long cold months of winter and the wet bitter months of spring to be released in one fell swoop. It wasn't exactly healthy to let everything build up, as many a brother and sister or husband and wife knew…but it seemed to work nevertheless. Vikings were tough, since when did they care about "therapy sessions"?

Astrid ducked as a wooden chair flew over her head from a second story window. Yep, classic Viking therapy in the works. Dodging the occasional flying object and wrestling youth with only half a mind, Astrid kept her eyes peeled for her real target.

Hiccup.

As soon as she woke up he was gone, which wasn't all that surprising; Hiccup and Toothless usually flew early in the morning to avoid other dragon riders and just enjoy the clear skies that are far harder to find with each passing year. However, on this morning Toothless was sleeping – or at least pretending to be sleeping – quietly downstairs next to the fire pit. To say that was odd would be an understatement. And that's what started her now hour and a half or so long search for Hiccup. After searching all the usual places for him to go off and hide, Astrid turned into the Blacksmith shop.

"Careful boy careful! You're going to slice your arm off trying to sharpen it that way! How many times do I have to tell you, run _with _the grain, not against it!" Astrid could hear Gobber's chiding coming from the back, and made her way around the front table to the back of the shop, where the spark's coming from the stone sharpener lit up the room just enough to reveal her youngest son Guriin learning from Gobber's finest teachings in the way of blacksmithing. Biting her cheek just knowing what Gobber was putting him through and calling it "learning on the job", she cleared her throat to get their attention. Gobber and Guriin either ignored her, or didn't hear her, so she cleared her throat again. "There you go boy, that's it, nice and easy…now make sure you go back and forth to ensure an even blade." Finally through with what little politeness she had in her, Astrid stepped into the dim light and shouted, "AHEM!" Both of their heads snapped up so fast she could swear it'd break their necks. Gobber let the sharpening stone slow down while Guriin set down the practice blade he was sharpening and got off the stool he was sitting on to face his mother.

"Yes Mother!" Guriin almost shouted, before realizing how loud he was and stuttering an apology. Astrid waved it off, before addressing the matter at hand. "Do you know where your father is? I've been looking for him everywhere." She said while crossing her arms. Guriin looked confused as he pondered the question; fortunately for him, Gobber filled in the blanks.

"Oh! He was just here a while ago…Well, okay he wasn't _just_ here, but it wasn't-"

"-Just get to the point Gobber." Astrid interrupted. In his age, Gobber had developed a growing habit of over-explaining his thought patterns; while interesting most times, she really didn't have time for this.

Gobber laughed, "Right lassie, he was here just before the lad popped in for his daily training. Didn't have the dragon with him though, I thought that was curious." Gobber said.

"Any clues as to where he went?"

"Uh, yeah…I think he mentioned something about the canyon…"

"Thanks Gobber! Be good Guriin, and keep Gobber out of trouble for me!" Astrid replied, exiting the shop before she could hear Gobber's retort.

As she stepped out onto the streets once more, Astrid let loose a sigh she didn't realize she held. She now knew where Hiccup was, but there was still the question of why he was out there in the first place. _Oh well…this is Hiccup after all. No telling what he'd do as a kid, and that goes double these days._ Shaking her head, Astrid set off to find her husband. He did have a village to maintain order over at some point today.

* * *

Hiccup's POV

Hiccup relaxed in the sun as it reflected off the pool of water in the small canyon. Looking around with interest, he scanned the scene of his memories, perfectly preserved even after all these years. _This was where it all began._ Hiccup thought, looking back to the crack in the rock that allowed him to get in to the canyon in the first place. It was a tighter fit than he remembered, but he still made it through with relative ease. He saw the tree that Toothless would often sleep in, sometimes hanging himself upside down. He saw the rock that Hiccup used to sit on while he doodled in the sand. Everywhere he looked he saw another memory, and those memories eased his tension in more ways than he could count.

…and this was a day he needed that tension eased.

Closing his eyes, he reflected on his current troubles. There was the food supplies, which had gone short recently (he had a suspicion that Toothless had something to do with it), the trouble with the various Viking tribes all jockeying for dominance, and of course the longtime enemies of the Vikings like the Romans and Saxons trying to attack their village and others. All those troubles paled to his thoughts on "The Hunt". Truth be told, if he could think of a better way to initiate the youth into adulthood he would've done it a long time ago. In years past, it was Dragon Training, but with the dragons no longer their enemies, that wasn't an option anymore. Stoick realized this too, albeit with a lot of suggestions and comments from Hiccup himself, and thus he came up with the idea of the hunt. This way, the next generation could train and prove themselves to the village, and prepare for the future occupational hazard that is being a full-time Viking warrior.

Hiccup smiled. While a great means of initiation, "The Hunt" had an even better touch to it. The Hunt, it turns out, was a great way to determine what kind of a Viking the teenager could and should become. The most aggressive, cunning and skilled Vikings would almost always kill and bring back the largest and most dangerous creatures the island of Berk had to offer. They made the greatest of the Viking warriors, the ones who struck pure fear into the enemy lines. The Vikings who managed to capture or kill the most difficult creatures were often the smartest and equally cunning, but not exactly the true "warrior" type. These select few (and Hiccup meant few) became some of the most valued members of Hiccup's tribe. Sure most of them weren't warrior's themselves, but they were valuable nonetheless. His top advisor and general was one of these men; he had managed to capture a Puffin on the nest, halfway down a sheer sea cliff.

Several other names and faces blurred past, as Hiccup drifted further off into a light doze. He pondered how this next group would turn out, whether anyone remarkable would show themselves in the ocean of youth that he once enjoyed. They were as stubborn as any Viking to be out in that hellish weather for the past two days without one of them quitting, that much is for sure.

A distant call carried his name on the wind, and he reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up. Honestly, he didn't realize this place had such a calming effect on him. Judging by the sun's placement in the sky, it would be time for the young Vikings to return with their prize in just a few hours. The call, much closer this time, had a high tone of annoyance, concern, and…hoarseness? Regardless, Hiccup instantly knew it was Astrid. Nobody else could hunt him down when he wanted to be out on his own like her…not even Toothless, and he knew Hiccup's scent by heart.

"Over here!" He shouted back. Though he couldn't hear it, he was certain she was mumbling obscenities to herself.

Sure enough, a minute later Astrid appeared through the narrow rift that led into the canyon, panting and very disheveled. After taking some time to gain her wits, she turned to Hiccup with a look in her eye that reeked of his demise. "I swear...you go off, doing the weirdest things…and the craziest times…What in Oden's name is so gosh-darn _important_ that you couldn't even _let me know where you were going?_"

Hiccup laughed nervously. "Umm…just daydreaming?"

If only Astrid had brought her axe this time.


End file.
